Page 13 of Serving the Mogul

“You’re a persistent man, Maximus,” I murmured, as if he were there to respond. After easing the pot out of the sleeve, I found another surprise. Gasping in shock at the sight of the delicate glass bowl, almost the same shade as the orchid’s petals, I decided I might have to revise my estimate of one James Maximus.

He wasn’t just persistent.

He was clever as hell.

I recognized this bowl. The delicate, richly blue glass, rimmed by a metal vine of enameled flowers, wasn’t exactly what you’d expect to find your typical flowers delivered in, nor should it be.

I’d saved this design on my Pinterest board, the one connected to my business, although I’d pinned this one to a separate board titled: For my dream house.

“Sly fox,” I muttered, stroking the gleam of golden flowers. Flowers were one thing. A gift like this? So much harder to resist.

Plucking up the card nestled against the orchid’s stem, I blew out a breath.

The blue of this made me think of your eyes. Hoping you’ll say yes to dinner. M.

He’d added his number down again, but I already had it memorized.

My cell phone pinged on my desk, and I gave the bowl another greedy look before gathering up the box. Last night, I gave the basket of wine and fruit to a neighbor. But I couldn’t give this beauty away. The bastard. He’d gotten to me with this one.

Grabbing my phone on the way out the back door, I read a text from my sister.

I talked Newt into closing up for me tonight. If I pick up the food for tacos, would you be interested in me heading over for a last-minute margarita night?

I thought about the flowers and gifts from Maximus and decided I could use a listener while I vented and said yes.

I went inside to finish my work for the day. It was galling to admit there wasn’t much. I would meet Hattie’s Place’s team in a few days, and I was tentatively optimistic, but for now, I had bills to pay, most of which were already late. And I had cold calls to make.

Neither one was appealing in my current frame of mind.

* * *

I tookthe orchid home with me.

There was no way I’d leave that gift at work—not a bowl that ran almost two grand.

After clearing away the space on my small dining room table, I put the bowl down and went to change into yoga pants and a tank top.

Maybe I should have left the damn thing at work.

Maybe I should text the stubborn bastard and tell him to stop it with the gifts already. I would not be the next notch on his bedpost.

Brooding over the issue, I juiced a bag of limes I’d picked up on my way home. I still hadn’t come to any sort of resolution. But I was definitely keeping the bowl, and I still would not accept his dinner invitation.

When I was washing up, I heard a rap on my front door. Then Dina called out, “Hey, it’s me! Is there a margarita waiting?”

“Pretty much…just have to add Jose,” I called back. Hanging the dishtowel back on the peg by the sink, I walked out of the kitchen and intercepted my sister, taking one bag from her. Giving her a critical look, I asked, “Rough day?”

“Mostly just an annoying one.” She rolled her eyes. “We’ll talk once I cook. Otherwise, I might…wow.”

Her eyes rounded, and she pushed around me to walk over to the table. “That looks just like the bowl you showed me from your Pinterest board.”

“Yeah.” I drummed up a smile.

She’d been running a finger along the metallic flowering vine, but at my tone, stopped. Looking up, she studied me through narrowed eyes. “Are you seeing somebody?”

“No.” Huffing out a breath, I nodded to the kitchen. “Let’s get those margaritas going, and I’ll spill. Nevertheless, tell me what you did today.”

“I almost want to skip my day and hear about yours.” She paused for a beat. “Almost. Not quite.”

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